Sharpe's Spartan
by WavyShadow101
Summary: Inspired by the Halo games and the TV series Sharpe starring Sean Bean. t. Spartan 57 and Sergeant William Sharpe meet during the evacuation of a military planet as it is being glassed by Covenant soldiers. The two save each other's lives and are forever intertwined as they are tasked with a mission to take out a Prophet of the Covenant. Story takes place two years into the war.
1. Prolouge

**0930 Hours, March 25, 2550 (Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Intrepid, Orbiting Planet 67-K **

**Outer Reaches of ****Epsilon Eridani System**

Captain Isaac White stood over Communications Officer Jason Presley staring at the officer's screen. It was empty for the exception of the few streams of data about the ships communication array having sustained slight damage in the previous fight. But that wasn't what he was looking for.

"Try it again, Presley" he instructed the officer.

"Sir, I've already tried several times. There is no response from any of our forces down on the planet. I think they're all..".

"I gave you an order Presley. Try it again"!

Presley looked into the Captain's eyes with a cold stare. His face was askew with emotions of which White thought would be anger or frustration. But he realised it was full of fear and loss. He knew that face from many past experiences. But he had to control his people. He was their Captain and he was in charge of their lives. He continued to look at Presley, knowing the officer would do the right thing. Presley looked at Captain White for a few more seconds before swallowing his feelings and turned back to his station. He opened up the com link again and did as he was ordered.

"UNSC Intrepid to any UNSC Marines on the surface of Planet 67-K, please respond. This is the UNSC Intrepid broadcasting to any UNSC forces on the planet, please respond."

Static filled the bridge with an uneasy feeling of lose. Hope was beginning to resemble desperation, if it hadn't already become so before this war had started.

"_Come on, answer it damn it. I know you're down there. You've survived worse than this so answer it!"_ He thought, almost saying it out loud. He couldn't die, he was one of the few, and he was one of the best.

"There's nothing sir, I recommend that we get the hell out of here before more Covenant ships arrive and..." Presley was cut off through his sentence as a dry cough replaced the static on the radio.

The bridge was still. All eyes were on Presley's station, waiting for their hope to be changed, to be given a second chance.

"_This is Spartan 057. I read you Intrepid. We have wounded down here in need of EVAC. We've held the enemy forces for the time being but we don't have the supplies or the personal to hold off another attack. Requesting Extraction on my coordinates!"_

Presley's blank screen filled with audio files and coordinates that were instantly streamed by the ship's AI to the lead navigator.

"Tell them to hold position for extraction" White ordered. He watched as Presley prepared to send a message but suddenly stopped, frustration filling his face.

"No can do sir. We've lost the frequency. That or their communications has broken down. But we got their coordinates"

"Good job Presley. Keep me posted if you can get their frequency again. I want an assessment. Captain White turned and moved to Navigation Officer Marshal Backwood's station and watched him extract the data and upload the coordinates to the ships locating system.

"What's the position Backwood" White asked.

"Sector 12, Quadrant 3. Just along the river. Bringing up visual now"

The main view screen lit up with a distorted video stream showing a damaged military outpost. It was riddled with plasma craters and rubble. Soldiers lined against the sandbag walls looking out at the river. The outpost was in ruin, it was a miracle that a fighting force was still alive in the station. All of the sudden, the screen started to flash red followed by a short warning siren.

"Hostile contacts two kilometres east of their position, across the river. Large masses moving in" Officer Hill reported.

"Show me" White ordered.

Officer Hill typed the command into his station screen and watched as the large visual camera overlooking the outpost moved to the right to show a small Covenant army. Such a mighty force marching upon a weakly fortified position meant only one thing. They wouldn't stand a chance.

"Send out all fighters to the planet's surface to give our forces some cover while Pelicans pick them up" He ordered.

A klaxon sounded off throughout the ship as Captain White looked at the Covenant force. A small bright figure appeared alongside the video feed screen. A small woman with shoulder length hair in a cybernetic coded body was the ship's AI Aria.

"You know the probability of all those men getting off the planet alive is a 5% Captain" she retorted.

"You're concerns are already known Aria. But I'm not going to leave them down there to die. I will not do that to them."

"There is a word for people like you" the AI said.

"Stubborn?"

"Close. I was thinking more so..loyal" she smiled at him.

For the first time in a while, Captain White was caught off guard by the comment. For years he had been taking negative comments about his actions, some had been from Aria herself. So this odd form of compliment came as a surprise to the Captain. So much he couldn't give an answer to it. Instead he did what he did best, hide it.

"Bring us as close to the plant as you can without getting caught in the planet's gravitational pull. I want to get them on this ship and out of this system as fast as possible"

"Aye aye Captain" Aria responded as she faded away from her position. Captain Isaac looked over his bridge crew. Some were drained from the lack of sleep while others were drenched from their own sweat. They had been through one hell of a day and dusk was setting in. The night would change depending if they left with a larger crew or a broken crew. He was feeling it, he soon realised. Desperation.

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

"It sounds like a massive herd of horses coming towards us" Corporal Young told him when they first saw the Covenant army come over the hill across the river. Spartan 57 didn't know what the soldier meant, being that he had never seen or heard a herd of horses his whole life. He would hope to learn about them if he survived this. The field in front of them was covered with bodies of the fallen enemy. But he was having his doubts as he analysed the force marching towards them through his S2 AM sniper rifle scope.

He counted at least seven squads of Elites while the remainder of the companies were an assortment of Grunts and Jackals. So far there were no Hunters but that didn't make much of a difference, they were still outnumbered his defending force at least 20 to 1. Following behind the infantry were four Wraiths. They would deal some damage to the outpost's forces before the ground even got within range.

His options were slim if none at all for strategy. A flanking recon force could do some damage on the Wraiths but he didn't have the men nor the weapons to issue that order and a counter attack would only end in their own massacre. He was becoming frustrated with his current situation. Spartan's are trained to beat any situation, no matter the odds or consequences. He wished that more of brothers and sisters were here. He had already seen Jen obliterated by a Hunter Plasma blast and Nathan was in critical condition after a plasma grenade went off beside him when his shield was down. His body was still intact but serious trauma and blood loss had made him pass out. He was in one of the medical tents recovering

The field medic finished tending to his shoulder wound. During the last attack, his shield had been weakened enough for an Elite to get a shot off. It had burnt through a portion of the armour and cauterised away some skin. Once the medic had finished up, he gave him a nod and moved on to the next wounded man beside the Spartan.

The number of wounded doubled the amount of able bodied soldiers. Many Marines had given their lives for this planet. Such a waste, he thought. Returning his sight to the sniper scope, he could see that the Covenant forces were crossing the river. Soon the Wraiths would get in range. "It was good while it lasted". With that final thought, he turned his shields back on and prepared for the worst. Time to inform the men of the situation, he said to himself

"Marines! We sent out a distress message to the Intrepid but we don't know if they received it or if they even are there to receive it. The only thing we can do in the mean time is hold out until help arrives. If it does, we need to get ourselves and the wounded onboard double time. Master Sergeant Harington, you and your men ready your M 19's and wait for my order. On my command I want you aim for the Wraiths. We have to take them out if we hope to stand a chance here!"

"Yes sir! We only have six shells but we'll make them count sir. Count on that" Harington reported. A smile was on his face. The first one he had seen since he landed on this planet. He turned his attention back to his sniper scope to see which of the Elites looked like a commanding officer.

They were tall and well built species. The Elites were the most formidable opponents on the ground besides Hunters and vehicles. They were in some ways like him, he thought. They were bred to fight for their race. They believed in honour and discipline. They would rather die than show the human race their backs. But one consistent difference between his Spartan brothers and these Elites was that they wore different coloured armour to display rank amongst themselves. In MOJNILIR armour, Spartans looked all the same.

The colour made it easy for the Spartan to pick out the commanding officers. Six were in red while three were yellow and the top two were in white. Both were walking in the middle squad near the front of the line. In their arrogance, they must have believed that they had no threat to fear from the outpost. Arrogance is a soldier's worst enemy. Made you over confident, make mistakes, get yourself killed. He checked the clip of the rifle before returning his view to the sight. They were 1.1 kilometres away from his position. Wind trajectory was still with the occasional slight breeze. He could make the shot if he calmed himself down and took his time.

"They're getting ready to fire!" A soldier cried aloud, breaking 57's concentration. He aimed the rifle at the Wraiths to confirm the soldier's observation. Their mortar turrets were assembling themselves and the tanks speed was slowing down. He had seconds before they brought plasma mortars down on them.

"Sergeant Harrington. Prepare to fire" he ordered. The sergeant nodded his eager head and told his men aim their launchers. The tanks had almost come to a halt and began charging their weapons. They had stopped short of the river while the infantry was making their way through the water filled with mud and blood. The time was now.

"FIRE" he yelled.

"Fire boys" the sergeant repeated. Six missiles left their homes and headed towards the Wraiths. 57 held his breath. One missile drifted low and exploded in the river, sending Grunts and water into the air. The other five flew true and hit their marks. They had hit the Wraiths before they had activated their shields. Two missiles collided with a Wraith while the remaining three hit separate targets. Sergeant Harrington and his men cheered in victory for such an incredible shot.

But the Spartan wasn't satisfied yet. His eye had not left the sight since the missiles had been fired. As the smoke cleared the Wraith that had been hit by two missiles became visible. It was in ruins, pieces of the tank were scattered about the field. He scanned the scene and saw that two more Wraiths were down; their firing cannons had been damaged. His hopes dropped although, for the final Wraith as it appeared unharmed. Its shields were flaring but besides severe burns on the armour, the tank was still up and running. 57 watched as the Wraith's main cannon reached the threshold of its power and sent its first shot hurtling through the air.

"Duck in cover" he yelled out as the mortar shot descended upon them. It crashed in the back of the outpost with a thunderous crash. Fire and rubble flew out of the impact zone. The mortar shot had incinerated two of the tents holding the wounded.

57 looked for the tent that was housing Nathan. It was still intact. He returned his attention back to the sniper rifle to pick out the two commanding Elites. With cool and quick precision, he put a sniper round into the left one's skull. It stood still as air filled in the newly formed hole. The other commander soon realised that his comrade was dead when he slowly fell on to his back, floating lifelessly on the water. The remaining commander looked back at the outpost and roared with rage. It was short lived when a round pierced his neck, just above the collar bone. Blue blood spurted out of the dying alien as it dropped to its knees, hands trying to cover the wound but to no avail. Fellow Elites looked on as their commander was dying in front of them. Some rushed to his aid, others fled from him, not wanting to be this death dealer's next target. A second round went right through the chest, killing the Elite instantly. He fell face first into the river, all life exhausted from his body.

57 surveyed the scene through the scope for a few seconds more then decided to leave the fourth round in the chamber. He stood up and walked along the line of Marines, all lying down, covered in dirt and blood.

"Check your weapons. Stand fast. Do not fire until I say so. Wait until they are within firing range. Make every shot count" he yelled out. 57 had been in similar situations before, but with his fellow Spartans. He could rely on them. He could rely on their strength, their speed, their knowledge. He wished 117 were here. John would know what to do. He would have found a way for them to survive this. He could make them stand fast.

But all he had were Marines. Men and women who had chosen to fight this war unlike his brethren. He did have to give them that. He had never got to choose his life. He was chosen to become what he was. He was made to fight and kill. Nothing else.

"Incoming!"

Another plasma mortar crashed in front of the outpost, throwing dirt and parts of the previously fallen Covenant soldiers in all directions. 57 crouched in the trench to avoid shrapnel. Once the shockwave had passed he stood and noticed Marines lying in the dirt, looking into his blank visor. All four were covered in blood and mud from the previous combats. Three were shaking in their armour, but one lay still and unyielding.

"Good shot with the sniper sir. Gave those buggers what was coming to them" the strong one said in a deep British accent. This one was different from the others. He had the bars of a sergeant on his shoulder but from his appearance and attitude, he had plenty of combat experience.

"Name marine"?

"Sergeant William Sharpe, 2nd Platoon, Delta Squad, Sir!"

"Where's the rest of your platoon Sergeant?"

"We sustained heavy casualties upon arriving sir. We had barely half before we got here Sir. The rest of them got wiped out in the last attack. All that's left is us sir".

57 could see in his eyes that he felt for remembering his lost comrades. But it was only for a second. He didn't let emotions cloud his judgement, when it would have done so many another men. 57 admired him, but he did not admire his weapon. His men had MA5B Assault Rifles while he only had a pistol in hand.

"Where's your rifle soldier" he asked him.

"Had a sniper rifle like yours sir until the last wave. Broke it breaking it on the skull of an Elite sir" he said.

57 knelt down in front of them and contemplated a decision in his mind. While doing that he checked the S2 AM. Besides a few scratches, it was in good condition. No mud in the barrel or other essential parts of the weapons. There was still that final shot in the clip. He pulled the choke, pushing the final bullet into the chamber. He removed the empty clip and replaced it with another from his waist clip. He still had three clips remaining besides the several clips for his Battle Rifle magnetically attached to his back.

He took a deep breath and concluded his decision and handed Sharpe the sniper rifle. The Sergeant did not move for sure surprise of such an offer. After a few moments he swallowed his astonishment and slowly inquired. "Are you offering me your rifle sir"?

"I don't know what else I would call it. You want it or would you rather stick with trying to crush the skull of an Elite with your pistol?"

The sergeant laughed at the dark humour and took the rifle along with the remaining ammo. He himself checked the gun was ready to fire then turned back to 57.

"Thank you sir"

"Don't let me regret it marine. When I give the order to fire, aim for the officers and NCOs".

"Yes sir"

57 nodded his head and moved on. Another plasma mortar exploded in the trenches ahead of the Spartan. Burnt body parts flew over his head as he continued a crouched run towards Master Sergeant Harrington's position. While he was moving along the trench, he looked over the top. The enemy ground forces had stopped at about 300 metres. They were getting ready to charge. He hurried along until he found Harrington.

"This is it. Well, it's a good way to go. It was an honour to serve with you Sir"

"You as well Master Sergeant. Keep your men together and keep them strong. We have only to hope that the Intrepid heard our message" 57 said as he drew his Battle Rifle from his back and checked the clip. Once satisfied, he slammed it back home and shouldered the rifle.

He looked down the scope and zoomed in on a squad of Grunts standing in an awkward formation, waiting to be ordered to their deaths. In his entire length of combat against the Covenant, he had realised early on that the Grunts were used as pawns in every major conflict. They seemed to be more so cannon fodder then soldiers. But that didn't matter, they didn't even have enough ammo to kill them all.

One elite lieutenant walked along the front of the Grunt infantry and stopped halfway. He turned to face them then yelled out a series of orders in the alien tongue. The Grunts responded with their squeaky cries and began to march towards them.

"Hold your fire; wait until I give the order. They know we're low on ammo so the Elites and Jackals will be following close behind, they will be the more dangerous threat" 57 yelled out. The men were shaking. Some were praying. The Spartan was merely breathing. He had to conserve every bit of strength he had. If help did ever arrive, he would make sure to get Nathan and every other man he could off this planet if it was the last thing he did.

200 metres away, the Grunts were waddling as fast as their suits could manage. Their trots in the grass could be heard and was growing loader and loader. 57's finger was beginning to press against the trigger. _Not yet_, he said to himself. The men were getting anxious, wanting to unless man made fire amongst their enemies. 120 metres away.

"Steady!" The tension in the trigger was near the point of fire. His focused was centered, his mind was empty. Only thing on his mind was fighting back. He could see their eyes clearly now. The eyes of the Grunts, hidden underneath their goggles keeping in their artificial methane air. He wanted to see the eyes of his enemies before he killed them.

Then he pulled the trigger!

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

* * * * *

A cacophony of firearms rang out in unison as a barrage of bullets was sent into the front line of the alien forces. Grunts cried out in agony as bullets ripped through parts of their armour, piercing vital organs in their petite bodies. Elite sergeants were following close behind the Grunts, some holding shields of fallen Jackals for their own protection. The remaining Wraith launched another mortar over the Covenant forces, crashing into the front lines of the defending humans.

57 held his fire and watched in silence as marines near the impact zone eroded away from the burning plasma. He had seen such events happen before, but it never got any easier to bear. A soldier fell to his knees as his skin began to melt into burning red flesh against the fiery blue flame. His hand reached out for help as his arm slowly fell off his torso. He turned away from the horrific scene, returning his view to the sight of his Battle rifle. A grunt in red armour moved into his line of fire. He let fly a burst from the weapon, every shot striking the grunt in the chest. The small creature died instantly. More and more grunts fell to the Spartan's deadly aim. The clip ran dry as the final bullet cut into the neck another grunt. He ejected the clip and replaced the empty slot with a fresh one. It felt like routine. It was routine. It had been drilled into his brain. No matter how dangerous or hopeless the situation may be; he never let that intervene with reloading his weapon. Pulling back the hammer, he returned the rifle to his shoulder and resumed firing at the enemy.

Small plasma fire began to streak over the human defences as the grunt's firearms could finally reach their position. A plasma bolt flew over 57's shoulder, flaring his shields but not reducing them at all. He knelt down closer to the bunker wall and continued to fire. He was looking for Elites nearing the front lines. So far they had been behind the grunts throughout the entire advance. But they're eagerness for blood could only be held back for so long. One Elite was in the middle of a squad of grunts, ordering them forward. Being 6'9 in height, the Elites towered over the small creatures, making them a much easier target for 57. He fired three controlled bursts in the center of the Elite's chest. The first burst barely affected the shields, but the second hit strong distorting the shields. The final burst pierced skin as blood spurted from the alien's chest. The Elite yelled in anger as the pain fuelled his rage for destruction. He was a determined soldier of the Covenant, loyal to the very end. A fourth and final burst into the skull put a significant stop to that.

The grunts around the fallen Elite began to scatter, making them easy pickings for the marines. 57 ordered the sharp shooters in the defence to aim for the Elites. By eliminating them, the grunts would start to lose face.

57 swung left and right with his rifle, spreading out his field of fire to disrupt the already badly shaken waddling aliens. They were within 30 metres of the front line. Gunfire and plasma fire mixed in a distortion of chaotic warfare as battle cries rang out over the artificial mechanisms of death. 57 slammed another clip into the rifle as he went fully automatic. Normally he would not do such a thing as a risk for wasting ammo. But with a wave of enemies so close together that they were practically tripping over each other; the idea of wasting ammo was not likely. The Elites were leaping over the grunts to satisfy their thirst for human blood.

When the first one that came into view, 57 unloaded his rifle into the beast. After it fell to the ground, 57 moved his sights to another Elite coming from the right. After a few bursts, the warrior fell to the ground holding onto his shattered kneecaps. A finishing shot to the skull brought it down for good. 57 turned back to the front to see an Elite coming down on top of him with an energy sword in hand. The Spartan reacted quickly by swinging the rifle in his hands and smashing the butt into the Elites throat. They both fell back onto the ground. 57 pushed the dead alien off of him and stood back up and surveyed the situation.

Grunts and Elites had jumped into the trench and brutal hand to hand combat ensued. Some of the grunts had fallen into the trench, making them easy pickings to finish off. The Elites however were a different story as most were going berserker with Energy Swords or their own fists. He saw Sergeant Harrington fighting over his rifle with an Elite, and the enemy soldier was winning.

Harrington had his back to the trench wall and the rifle was crushing his throat under the power of the Elite. His life looked to fading away as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. The Elite opened its four jawed mouth and said something in the alien's language. 57 raised his rifle and took a moment before putting a bullet in the back of the Elite's head. Blood splashed all over Harrington's face as the grip on his rifle relieved itself and the Elite fell to the ground dead. He looked to his left and saw 57, rifle aimed at the dead Elite. A quick check confirmed the kill and he walked over to Harrington.

"That bastard almost had me sir" Harrington said as he wiped the blood off his face "Thank you for that sir".

"No need Master Sergeant" 57 said as he looked down the trench. Marines were fighting for their lives as the more powerful Elites easily cast them aside. The trench was lost. He looked out over the plain and saw more Covenant forces advancing. They had to fall back. "Sergeant, tell the men to fall back to headquarters".

"Yes sir" Harrington responded as he yelled into his com for the men to fall back. 57 reloaded his rifle and took down three grunts before leaving Sergeant Harrington to move back down the trench. It was full of dead bodies, enemy and friendly. Charred limbs and organs spilled out into the mixture of blood types covering the bottom of the trench. He raised his rifle and fired along the line at a squad of grunts and moved on. He had four clips remaining for his Battle rifle with half a clip left in the weapon itself. He was burning through his ammo and thought about collecting some from his fallen comrades but he dismissed the thought. Looting dead corpses would look demeaning and would let down his guard. If today was his time, he would die with honour, not with indignity.

He continued to move along the death filled trench, making every shot count. As he loaded his third last clip into the rifle. An Elite dropped down a few feet in front of him. The alien turned towards him with two plasma rifles in hand. There was no time to take him down with the rifle. He dropped the weapon and leaped forward at the alien. The elite fired the plasma rifles, quickly depleting his shield. He drew out his army knife and slammed it to the hilt. The Elite let out a final breath as it fell onto its back, the Spartan falling on top of him. 57 pulled the blade out of the alien's chest and attached it back to his leg. He reached back and pick up his rifle and continued along the trench. After emptying another clip and recharging his shields, he jumped out of the trench with the remaining marines still falling back. A plasma mortar exploded 10 feet in front of him, sending a piece of shrapnel into a fellow soldier running alongside 57.

The Spartan looked back for only a moment and continued onwards. It was then he noticed who he was running alongside. Sergeant William Sharpe was hobbling alongside him, a bloody wound in his left leg, yet he was still holding the sniper rifle the Spartan had given him before the battle had started. Sharpe noticed that 57 was beside him and gave him a nod and a smile. They slid into the second trench and reloaded their weapons. 57 had one clip remaining. He looked up and checked for targets.

He froze for the first time he could remember since his early days of training. The first trench had been overrun by an uncountable number of enemy forces. They stood no chance against this force. This was the end. He pulled the trigger to take as many of the enemy with him as possible. As the first burst left this rifle, a line of fire ignited amongst the Covenant forces. Sharpe let out a roar as Long Swords flew over the inferno and dropped sets of mini nukes on the Covenant forces in the rear. The ground shook from the series of massive explosions which ignited the sky with a burning yellow light.

The enemy stopped in their tracks, discouraged by the inferno in front of them and the nuclear nightmare behind them. 57 looked back and saw Pelicans landing behind them.

"Burn you spineless bastards. Burn for all the lives you took" Sharpe yelled out as he fired off a few rounds. 57 fired off the remaining rounds and ejected the empty clip. The Intrepid had heard their call for aid. But it had come at a time of utter loss. They had loss many of the wounded in the Wraiths mortar attacks. Suddenly 57 remembered that Nathan in a medical tent behind the napalm strike. He turned back to the Pelicans and saw that the nearby wounded were already being loaded. There was no time to organize a rescue party, though it didn't matter much. 57 was the only person who could lift Nathan anyways. He would have to do it alone.

"Sergeant Sharpe. I want you to get the wounded on those Pelicans. Tell Harrington once everyone is on board to get the hell out of here" he ordered as he climbed back out of the trench.

"Where are you going sir" Sharpe asked.

"I'm going to get Spartan 76. If I'm not back by the time the wounded are loaded, take off"

"But sir, your friend is probably dead. If that airstrike didn't kill him, the Covenant would have done him in"

"Spartan's never leave a fellow Spartan behind Sergeant Sharpe" 57 said, slamming his final clip into his Battle rifle, he turned and ran towards the blazing inferno.


	4. Chapter 3

*****

He leapt through the flames and stepped onto the charred body of an Elite. His shields flared up from the heat and dropped by 5%. He raised his rifle, anticipating for any threat. After a quick scan of the terrain, he lowered his weapon and headed towards the medical tents at a fast pace. Nathan's transponder was still working but there was too much distortion to get an exact location or do a check of his vital EMP blast from the mini nukes had messed with his suit's electronics.

Charred bodies of Grunts and Elites littered the area that used to be the first line of defence of the outpost. All life within the vicinity of the napalm strike had been incinerated. Bodies were burnt beyond recognition. There were a few Elites badly burnt crawling along the burning wasteland, still clinging to some small existence of life. 57 didn't pay attention to them; he could not afford any distractions. A squad of Swordfish flew over him, dropping more ordinances into the enemy lines far off.

He ran past the first of the medical tents that were now burning cinders. The napalm strike had reached out farther than he had thought. He had fears that Nathan's tent was long gone. Proceeding forward, he heard a Covenant drop ship off in the distance. Turning to the north, 57 saw one gliding down towards his position!

Remembering he had only one clip of his Battle Rifle remaining, he would have to find Nathan, if possible, and get back to the Pelicans as fast as possible.

Continuing on, he found Nathan's tent collapsed to the ground with a object jutting the fabric up in one area. He lifted up the tent cloth to find his fellow Spartan laying under a medical bed. Small portions of his armour had been melted by the napalm strike. 57 knelt down to check his vital signs on the collar of his suit. He was still alive with a slow pulse but he was still unconscious.

The Covenant drop ship flew over the tent, lifting up the cloth up into the air, fully exposing them to the Covenant forces. The drop ship had set down a few hundred yards away from his position. Zooming in on the passengers offloading, 57 saw several Elites with energy swords jump off the ship. It was time to move!

He lifted up his comrade and lugged him over his shoulder. Taking one last look at the Covenant ship beginning to dust off, he turned on his feet and started to head back to the Pelicans. There were two already departing the evacuation zone. Banshees flew overhead and came up behind one of the Pelicans and fired fuel rods into the rear engine. A large explosion could be seen as a flaming Pelican speed back down to the planet's surface. The Banshees broke off the chase of the second Pelican when a Swordfish squad moved in to engage them.

The fiery wall had depleted as 57 leapt over where embers remained. He was getting frustrated with his motion sensor. It kept flickering on and off which was not a good sign. Four more Pelicans lifted off with a final two loading the last of the wounded. He was no more than 40 yards away when his motion tracker finally came on to reveal four red dots behind him. Coming to a stop, he turned around and raised the Battle Rifle with his right hand. Three Elites stood idle, energy swords ignited, jaws locked. 57 could not see the fourth target but didn't give the other three a second's thought, firing off a burst into middle Elite's skulls. With his shield not activated, the alien warrior fell dead.

The other two activated their shields and charged forward. He fired off several bursts into the one of the right, getting a kill shot in the neck. Turning to the other, he could only drop the alien's shield before having to drop Nathan off his shoulder to stop the enemy soldier's sword arm with his left hand. Pushing the rifle barrel to the enemy soldier's stomach, he fired two bursts into his body. A cry of pain echoed across the battlefield as blood spurted onto 57's visor. Feeling the arm go limp, he let go of it and watched the alien fall to the ground. Turning to pick up Nathan, he had a mere second to notice the final Elite appear in front of him with two swords at the ready. Pulling the trigger revealed the weapon was empty. The Elite raised his arms to deliver a killing strike when a large portion of his skull was torn apart.

Turning to see the source of the shot, 57 could see Sergeant Sharpe standing near the entrance door of the final Pelican, shouldering his sniper rifle. He lowered the weapon and beckoned him to get off this planet of pain and suffering. 57 picked up Nathan and ran towards the Pelican. Stepping onto the hard steel of the airship was a feeling of satisfaction. Setting Nathan down in an empty seat, he turned and walked to the back of the Pelican bay. Standing beside Sharpe, he took one last look at the burning outpost as the loading door locked for atmospheric travel.


	5. Chapter 4

**1658 Hours, July 23, 2548 (Military Calendar)**

**Planet J-Pax,Tygoon Jungle **

**Beta Colony, Hadrian System **

Lieutenant William Sharpe watched the jungle surroundings around him flash in a bright white light for a full second. Then it returned to the same drenched rain forest nightmare he had been in for the past four days. The forest echoed with the sound of rain drops splashing against every imaginable thing possible. After the first two days, he could barely stand the noise. After the third, he finally got used to it and convinced himself it was as ordinary as hearing himself breathing.

He looked over what he could see against the hard rain; he looked back to his squad and issued a "fall in" order with his hand. Sharpe and his team were on a special ops mission on behalf of Lord Hood himself. The mission wasn't directly under his command but he was watching its progress from the side lines. The orders were sketchy at best. The mission was to locate a rogue platoon hiding in an abandoned outpost somewhere in the Tygoon Jungle. Sharpe disagreed with the importance of this mission. Soldiers had been gone AWAL ever since the Covenant started rampaging through the galaxy. He would rather be on the front lines fighting against the alien scum, not getting soaked gear while hiding in a wild jungle. But Sharpe had bit his tongue during his debriefing. If Lord Hood had signed off on the mission personally then there must be a good reason, but he wished they had told him all the facts instead of sending him in blind.

They had assigned an ONI executive to his squad who did know all the details of the mission. Her name was Special Officer Alice Jenkins, she had been very insistent on that. A short woman with an attitude was a force to be reckoned with in Sharpe's opinion. He had been married and divorced to one before the war had begun. Jenkins had been abusing her right as an observer of the mission. She kept contradicting his orders and he was trying his best fighting the urge to punch her in the face.

He came to a stop near the bass of an incline. Hundreds of trees drew a dark and gloomy canvas over the jungle. The two moons of J-Pax's light barely broke through towering trees, giving an eerie illumination of the jungle. Lightning lit up the jungle for a second, showing all of its elements and inhabitants before being dropped back into darkness followed by a thunderous boom. Lieutenant Sharpe flipped down the night vision goggles attached to his helmet over his eyes. He saw brush and leaves along the jungle floor but no sign of enemy contact. He looked back and signalled for his radio man Private Kyle Higgins to move up to his position. Higgins jogged up to him from the back of the pack. He had been at Jenkins side throughout the entire mission. When he came up beside Sharpe, he stopped and got down on one knee.

"You called sir?"

"Where the hell are we Higgins? It feels like we've been going in circles for the past few days" Sharpe whispered to Higgins.

"We haven't been going in circles sir, Jenkins's route just seems to weave back and forth"

"It was a figure of speech Higgins" Sharpe retorted. "How much farther are we from the target"?

"About three more kilometres sir, to the north" Higgins said as he pointed out the position.

"Thank god. The sooner we finish this mission; we can get the hell out of this jungle. I just wish that Jenkins would tell us what the hell the real point of this mission is"

"You think there's more to it than just a rogue platoon sir"?

"Doesn't matter what I think Higgins. All that matters is that we get in there, let Jenkins do whatever the bloody hell she wants and then bugger out of here" Sharpe said.

"Whatever you say Sir" Higgins said as he returned to the back of the group. Sharpe cursed under his breath. This mission was affecting his judgment and his attitude towards his men. He needed to get out of this jungle and into a fire fight. Then he returned to his normal self.

The brush in front of him began to move, startling Sharpe. He quickly raised his rifle, cursing himself for being off guard in this soggy jungle. He had barely been able to shoulder the weapon when Jason Cho, his team's scout appeared from the brush. Sharpe let out a deep breath as he lowered his weapon and motioned for Cho to come to him. Cho ran over to Sharpe in a low run, his boots heels smashing into the muddy jungle floor. When he came to a stop at Sharpe's side, he holstered his rifle on his back and pulled out his silenced pistol as he reported his recon.

"Took out three guys along the ridge about a click north, hid their bodies under some brush and destroyed the weapons" Cho said as he ejected the clip and pushed in extra rounds.

"Have they made them check in since you took them down" Sharpe asked.

"No chatter on the radio Sir. I collected their radios and linked them to my own and I've heard nothing." Cho finished filling the clip and pushed it back into the pistol.

"Did you find any tracks leading up to the base?"

"I found about seven separate boot tracks, but I found a lot of tire tracks leading towards the base. They were quite wide and about 5 inches deep. Two troop transports at least have moved into that base". Cho clicked the pistol in the ready position and returned it to his leg holster, then shouldered his rifle once more. "Are you losing sleep Sir?" He asked.

"What do you mean Cho" Sharpe asked harshly.

"Well Sir, you aren't going to do much good against enemy attacks "Cho stated, "If your weapon's safety is on".

Sharpe looked down to confirm Cho's cocky remark. He clicked it back to the fire position and groaned in his throat. "Everything is getting to me right bloody now Cho. So get in line and let's move out". Cho nodded his head and moved ahead as Sharpe ordered his team to fall in as they moved in deeper into the jungle.

* * * * *


	6. Chapter 5

**1120 Hours, March 25, 2550 (Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Intrepid, Leaving Orbit of Planet 67-K **

**Outer Reaches of Epsilon Eridani System**

Blood and torn pieces of cloth covered the floor of _Intrepid's_ medical decks. Sergeant William Sharpe sat in silence on the bench near the far wall, looking at all the wounded that had been brought up from the surface. Some marines had lost body parts while others were burnt and scared. The screaming was the worst. Cries of agony echoed throughout the entire wing. Despite the Captain White's efforts, not many had made it back to the Intrepid and most of those that did had been wounded. Every doctor and nurse on shift had still be called in. Most of the wounded weren't going to make it but it didn't hinder their efforts.

Sharpe looked down at his left leg to inspect the wound once again. He cursed aloud for letting a piece of shrapnel the size of a pencil wound him. It was embarrassing almost, but he knew that shrapnel was more deadly the longer it stayed in your body. It could cause infection and lead to a slow and painful death. Sharpe had been told to check in by Spartan 57 after they both arrived on the ship. He disagreed at first with the Spartan but in the end; he did as he was told.

Spartan 57 was an interesting soldier, Sharpe thought to himself. He had never fought with a Spartan before nor had he ever seen one. But he had heard the stories of them. That they were the best of the best, that they could do what normal soldiers could not, that they were freaks of nature used for the military's will. There were many speculations on the Spartans. Some disagreed with the Spartan program, saying that they weren't needed and they were only hogging the glory. Some soldiers sneered at the very sight of them.

But Sharpe knew deep down that they thanked that day for having a Spartan fighting alongside them. Sharpe knew for a fact if Spartan 57 had not been down on the battlefield with them, his head would be beneath the boot heel of an Elite by now. It still was odd seeing how close 57 seemed to be with the other wounded Spartan. He had seen him follow behind his wounded brother as he was lifted to a special medical room.

"Sergeant Sharpe, is it?" said a nurse standing in front of Sharpe.

"Umm yes it is ma'am" Sharpe stuttered. The nurse's beauty caught Sharpe off guard. It had been long since he had seen a beautiful woman.

"What is the case of injury"? She asked.

"Piece of shrapnel in the left leg ma'am. Tried to dig it out but it's too deep".

"You are right about that Sergeant. It's near the formal artery; it's too risky to removing it without giving you a sedative"

"No ma'am. No drugs. Just dig it out. I can take the pain" Sharpe barked.

"Sergeant if I miss by an inch, you could bleed to death. You need something to keep you still" the nurse retorted.

"Ma'am, there are a lot of soldiers in this room who need it far more then I do. I've stayed still in a jungle for two straight days with absolutely no movement, I think I can handle this. So let's just be done with it" Sharpe ordered. The nurse did nothing at first. She was either impressed or annoyed with his stubborn choice on the situation.

"Alright then Sergeant, put your head against the wall" she said as she took opened her medical bag and took out a few instruments. Sharpe rested the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Flashes of the previous battle were still in his mind. The fires, the hordes of Covenant and the Spartan in the middle of the fray. He opened them when he felt the nurse remove piece of shrapnel from his leg. He hadn't felt anything up until she had removed the piece. He leaned his head forward to look back at the nurse.

"That was interesting" she said.

"What's interesting" Sharpe asked.

"The fact you didn't move at all or show any sign of pain through that. Most men would have done something. It's as though you didn't feel a thing"

"The perks of being a soldier ma'am, we aren't supposed to feel pain" he joked.

The nurse looked up at him with a face that read half disgust at the weak joke and a hint of something Sharpe couldn't discern as compassion or humility.

"The bleeding has almost stopped. I trust you can finish patching yourself up Sergeant"? She asked as she handed him some bandages.

"Yes Ma'am. Be a dead soldier if I couldn't". Sharpe said as he took them. He wanted to ask for her name. But she had already moved on to the next patient, a soldier suffering from major plasma burns. After a few moments, Sharpe had wrapped up the wound and headed towards the barracks.

Crew members were constantly on the move throughout the ship. He had to move along the wall to stay out of the way. As he continued down, the hallways became less and less crowed. Despite the pain in his leg, he made it to his barrack unit. There were a few other soldiers in the room with him but only a few acknowledged his presence. Sharpe returned the nod to some of them. No one was in a talking mood especially after losing another planet in a war that was continually not going their way. He lay his head on the pillow and fell asleep very quickly.

Images of the battle replayed over in his mind. The Spartan still in the middle of the fray, fighting off hundreds of Covenant soldiers. But something was different. Very different. The aliens were getting the upper hand. The Spartan was overwhelmed, having to fight them off with his own hands. He fell to the ground as Elites pounced on his body.

A firm slap on his chest pulled him out of his dream. He was about to swear when he saw who had woken him up. The man sported a similar yet more _worn_ armor. The man had curly black hair and ever growing smirk on his face. One that Sharpe was very familiar with.

"Did you sleep well Mr. Sharpe sir?"

"Well enough thanks to you Benjamin Harper".

Spartan 57 looked down on his fellow Spartan 245, Brian. He was out of his armor and being scanned by several medical doctors. It wasn't a matter of blood loss or eternal organ rupture that 57 was worried about. It was Nathan's brain function. Despite the incredible dexterity of the Spartan MJOLNIR armor and the intensive interior padding within, the threat of shellshock was still apparent for Spartans. The chances of it happening were extremely low as the shields acted as the first main defense against artillery bombardment or heavy weapon's fire as long as it wasn't a direct hit from a high energy source. And if the shields were to fail, the armor was supposed to give that second line of protection from exposure burns and projectile entry. But it still didn't stop the head from banging around like a ball despite the tight pressure.

57 had removed Nathan's helmet upon boarding the Intrepid and noticed his lack of focus to light in his eyes as well as serious dilution in one of them. All were signs of potential brain damage. He had called for a medical team to meet them and was even going to demand a message request for Doctor Halsey to monitor the surgery inspection. But he knew better than for Halsey contact them, if not for the fear of revealing his undisclosed location but to weaken her stature as the Spartan's originator. If his brain was lost, she would not want to be present for the process. Halsey cared about her Spartans but purposely separated her emotional bond from them specifically to prevent her losing focus on the war.

She had wanted the same notation to be drilled into the Spartans during their training as children and it had worked to an extent. Most of the Spartans had lost most of their perceived emotions allowing them to continue on unabated in the case that a soldier was to fall in combat. 57 could say that it had worked on him for the most part but he had grown a connection with Nathan that he had only just began to come to terms with. Nathan and him had been deployed in their region for almost two years now. Jen had joined them only three weeks ago. Her death was still in the back of the Spartan's mind. But it was Nathan who was weighing on his emotions.

They had undertaken several sabotage missions against the Covenant and had become an damaging force in their armada. They had taken down cruisers and even heavily damaged a flag ship before the alien forces had launch and all-out attack on Planet 67-X. 57 had seen the planet from a portside window before the Intrepid had jumped out of the system. It had a blue coat surrounding a majority of the water area with a distinguishing red outlining it. The planet had been completely glassed.

So many had been lost trying to escape the planet, even more so had died valiantly defending it. It was only as he was carrying Nathan out of the Pelican did he hear about Master Sergeant Harrison's death. He had died escorting wounded soldiers to the Pelicans before when he was cut down by plasma fire. His loss only added to the growing darkness that 57 was feeling. He returned his focus to Nathan. He noticed the clock on the wall next to him. He had been standing in though for over 15 minutes. While it would seem a small number to sum, that amount of non-responsive time from a Spartan was unheard of.

_Maybe I'm losing that thing the Marines call "my edge?"_

57 contemplated this thought along with all the others running through his head as he watched the doctors continue their vain attempt to help his fellow Spartan. He had a thought about that other soldier, the one called Sharpe who had saved his life. Not many could say that they had saved a Spartan. He wondered how the Sergeant would view the accomplishment himself.


	7. Chapter 6

**1530 Hours, March 25, 2550 (Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Intrepid, In Slipstream **

**Within the Epsilon Eridani System**

Sharpe was still limping as Harper led him to the main officers' quarters. According to Harper they had called for him but since he was not in his room, they had sent him to find Sharpe and report their request.

"Still can't say what they want with yah Sir. You know how these officers are, all wit but no teeth" Harper joked as they turned a bend. Harper had noticed Sharpe's limp early on and had made the motion to slow down for the Sergeant's discretion but Sharpe had given him a look that told him to just keep on at his own pace.

That's how Sharpe was, never wanting people to lower themselves down to his level. He strived to be above theirs. That had been his driving force when he had joined the UNSC. He had rose through the ranks despite being an orphan off the streets who joined the army at too young of an age to be legally enlisted. He had collected a name for himself when he held off an entire army of rebel soldiers with only a handful of men, Harper included when he was only a Private Second Class. He had rose all the way to Lieutenant until that mission on J-Pax.

"You got a look of concern about you Sir" Harper asked. He was always concerned about the wellbeing of his friend. Even if he knew that he wouldn't get much of an answer

"Just thinking about past mistakes Harper. Mistakes that have bunked me as a Sergeant and you as a Corporal" Sharpe said with distain in his mouth.

"Ah, you be thinking about what happened back on J-Pax. Well as I said once before, you did what you had to Sir. Nothing you can change about that"

"I know Harper, I know. Still doesn't change the fact that we lost a lot more than our ranks because of that mission"

"Well Sir" Harper said as he once again grew a smirk on his face. "It was the army's loss to be truthful, not ours"

"This isn't the army Pat. It's a naval marine force"

"Ey, that it is. I still have to ask Sir. Pat isn't a derivative of Benjamin so why do you call me that"

The question came as a surprise to Sharpe. Never had he imagined Harper saying the word _derivative_ in a way as though he actually knew the meaning of the word and wasn't trying to be a show off. "To be honest Harper, I've never really thought about it. It just seems to work with the kind of man you are"

"Well, I know how you feel Sir. The name has begun to run off on me as well"

They laughed as they walked through a gateway that led to the officer's quarters. Upon entering the main wing, they were greeted by a young male officer. He looked no older than 25 years old with short cropped blond hair and bright green eyes. His uniform looked to be in immaculate condition. He was looking at Sharpe and Harper as though they were two grunts who had gotten lost looking for the cafeteria.

"Can I help you gentlemen with something?" The young officer asked quickly.

Sharpe was about to give the boy a bit more than a piece of his mind but Harper made a move before he could bring the words to his mouth.

"This here is Sergeant William Sharpe. His presence was requested by Major Albert Townsend most urgently"

The young officer seemed unconvinced as he refused to move from his position.

"If Major Townsend had requested you, he would have informed me first hand and I have heard no report from him as far" The officer retorted, trying to keep his professional persona about him. "If you wish, I could speak with him and reconvene his availability for another time"

"I'll show you what's available for you if you don't move aside boy!" Sharpe shouted to the officer's face. The young man's resolution cracked as he winced at Sharpe's threat. He quickly licked his lips as he thought of a counter to Sharpe's threat but could not muster the courage to retort.

"As I … said before gentlemen. If you have an appointment with Major Townsend then I will direct your concerns to him …"

"That will be enough Terrence" A loud voice from a much older gentleman silenced the officer.

"I'm sorry about the trouble Sergeant. Everyone is still on hedge after losing another planet, myself included. Major Albert Townsend at your service" The Major presented his hand to Sharpe who was slow to accept it but eventually did. "Please come into my office. Bring us some coffee would you Terrence" Major Townsend ordered as he turned and lead Sharpe and Harper to his office.

Sharpe gave the officer, Terrence one last look before he turned to follow the Major. Terence was left standing in the main wing.

Sharpe knew of Townsend's record. He had performed admirably in key battles during the rebel attacks. However, when the Covenant came into the fray, his military prowess began to falter as he lost several main battles in the beginning of the war. Yet despite his defeats, he had always survived or escaped the planet in question before it was glassed. Interesting pieces of history that Townsend always kept quiet about.

Upon entering his office however, he wasn't one for displaying his former victories. Pictures of battles against the rebels as well as his military awards lined the wall. Townsend noticed this and smiled at Sharpe. His greying black hair was still full on his head. It added a bit of levity from his cold brown eyes. Despite his combat experience, he had never been wounded so his face was immaculate.

"I see you fancy my collection eh Sharpe? A man can never give too much to his cause" Townsend bloated.

"I was thinking along a different line Major Sir. Usually a man can only win so much before he losses everything he once believed himself to be" Sharpe said, ever cunning with his delivery. The Major noticed the underhanded comment and retorted with his own.

"I believe you of all people would understand that best Sharpe, losing the rank of Lieutenant after all" The Major retorted.

Sharpe kept his face loose as to not show the Major the satisfaction of his remark about his military record.

"But with things as they are, we can't afford to lose any more ground than we already have. This is why I am proud to restart your rise through the ranks, Sharpe. You're a Sergeant Major now!"

Sharpe was caught off guard by the promotion. Harper was smiling at the fact however. Sharpe had a feeling of something deeper behind the promotion.

"I thought I was never eligible for promotion after what happened on J-Pax Sir?"

The Major noticed that Sharpe was as insightful as his record preceded him. "I'll give you that Sharpe. My commanders are most likely going to give me a good shout for doing this. But that's all it will be, a shout and bit of spit. Never hurt anyone before. Oh and since Master Sergeant Harrison was killed in action, you are to replace him and his commanding officer who was also killed."

There it was. The catch.

"But the ones we really need to bring a hurting to is the Covenant. The damn bastards have us running with our tails between our legs and there has been nothing we can do to stop their advance. Until now!" The Major added with a smile on his face.

"What would you have me do Major?" Sharpe asked as he positioned himself like a good soldier, awaiting his new orders.

"You met Spartan 57 on 67-K correct?"

"Yes Sir" Sharpe said, a slight surprise that the Spartan would be the first thing out of the Major's mouth. "We fought together in the final hour of defense before we were evacuated from the planet. Before it was glassed"

"Well you will be getting to know him a lot more now. ONI has sent specific orders to the Captain that our Spartan team is to carry out a special mission of sorts. One that could turn the tide in this war"

Sharpe knew it was redundant to ask but he was still compelled. "But Sir, one of the Spartans is dead and the other looks to …"

"Be in critical condition with little chance of recovery" Townsend interrupted. "Yes I know Sharpe, so which is why I am going to give the Spartan some help. The best I can think of to help with this sort of mission"

"You mean me to help as body armor for the Spartan, Major? They can take a beating but I'm only flesh and bone. How can I possibly help a Spartan?" Sharpe wanted to seem angry at the idea of being paired up with a Spartan. But to be honest, he actually was afraid that it was in fact a suicide mission.

"I didn't say you would be going alone. Corporal Harper will be going with you"

Harper almost choked at the announcement of being included in the mission. It took a moment before he could fully compose himself.

"I'd be delighted to Sir!"

Sharpe would normally have laughed at such a ridiculous comment from Harper but he could sense fear in the man's voice even if he did a very good job of hiding it. But Sharpe was far from satisfied with the mission.

"So that's all you are going to do. Give a Spartan two meat bags for a secret mission?" Sharp asked. The Major wasn't deterred like the young officer Terrence had been earlier but he still lost his arrogant smile and slowly stood up from his chair.

"Might I add Mr. Sharpe, that while I can give you a promotion, I can just as easily take it away, is that understood?"

"Yes Sir"

"You and your friend here have enough bad blood on your hands that you wipe it on others with every hand you shake" his voice rising with every word. "So I think giving you a mission that while looking to be impossible, will maybe change this military's opinion of you. Is that understood?"

"You will be given a small garrison of men to lead while still under the command of Spartan 57. Maybe this time you will listen to your commanding officer and not cause a complete catastrophe!"

That last remark hit Sharpe at his core and it took every bit of self-restraint to not jump over the desk and beat the Major with one of his self-gratifying awards. Harper also kept his mouth shut despite the low blow. There was a short moment of silence between the three of them. The Major's anger slowly subsided; Sharpe's fury crawled back into himself while Harper simply stood silent. At that moment, young Terrence entered the room with a small tray with coffee mugs. He set it on the table and walked back out of the room again without an look at Sharpe.

"Now then" Major Townsend sat back down in his chair. "You are to report to the bridge. Captain White and Spartan 57 should be waiting for you there. You are dismissed."

Sharpe and Harper saluted the Major and then exited the room and walked out of the officer's wing. Officer Terrence watched Sharpe and Harper pass in silence. They turned the corner and headed to a lift to take them up to the bridge.

"That Major has his head so far up his ass that he's seeing the glinting white of his teeth and he's still smiling" Harper joked as they entered a lift.

"That may be Harper, but we're up his ass as well. And we're going to have to crawl through a lot of shit to climb out of it" Sharpe retorted as the doors closed on them.

The Intrepid had just pulled out of slip space drive as Spartan-57 appeared on the bridge. He saw Captain Isaac White discussing their current position with his navigation officer Marshal Backwood. He didn't seem too pleased. After he ordered the officer back to his station, he noticed 57. There almost was a hesitation in his actions. He eventually moved forward and extended his hand.

"Good to see you alive, 57. You boys sure did impress us down there." 57 extended his own and shook White's. He rarely shook another human's hand for fear the armour may just tweak ever so slightly and end up destroying the hand. Thankfully, he kept it under control and performed a smooth hand shake.

"We are only alive because of you Sir. Had you not heard our distress call, we would have surely been done for" 57 said calmly.

White seemed to take the compliment as an insult at first and 57 was confused as to why.

"But it wasn't enough was it? We only saved a few and lost another planet in return" White said as he turned back to the bridge view. As 57 walked up to stand beside him, he recalled that this wasn't White's first loss of a planet. Only two months prior, he had been involved in a massively one sided battle with Covenant cruisers and his ship was one of the seven of the original 57 that made it out alive.

"It feels like we are just rinsing and repeating this whole war" White remarked, almost as if he had known what 57 was thinking. "We fight, we fail, we retreat and the whole thing starts all over again. Makes one think what is the point of it all, doesn't it?"

"I don't understand what you mean Sir" 57 remarked, fully aware of what he meant but decided to remain anonymous about it.

"You know exactly what I mean" White remarked with insult. If there was one thing White was extremely good at, it was reading body language. Even with his calm and emotionless voice, 57 still couldn't outwit the Captain. "This has not been my first defeat nor do I believe will it be my last. But it is getting tiring seeing us run. I feel I can run no longer."

57 had had some training with human behavior as a child and he could sense many things about White's last statement. His first thoughts were desertion, coward and turncoat. But this was not Isaac White in the slightest. He was what some people called, a realist even if he didn't believe it himself.

"But you don't have to worry about running anymore, at least for the timebeing. You have been requested for a special mission courtesy of ONI."

"But Sir, we have one Spartan MIA and another in a coma" 57 commented. "I fear that whatever the mission may be, I am ill equipped for it."

"Ah but you aren't Spartan. I have organized a group of marines to come along with you."

57 tried his best not to sound rash or over confident. "But Sir, the missions we Spartans get assigned are usually too advanced or difficult for marines soldiers."

"Well you can say that to their faces if you like. Given the circumstances of the mission, I bet they would be pleased to hear such a low blow" White gestured his head behind him. 57 turned and saw two marines walking onto the bridge.

He recognized one of them as the soldier who had saved his life on 67-K, William Sharpe. The marine walked towards 57 and extended his hand.

"Good to see you again Spartan" Sharpe said with a smile.

Two handshakes in one day. 57 thought it odd as he extended his hand and repeated the process.

"Same for you, Sergeant. How's the leg?"

"It's Sergeant Major now actually" Sharpe said with an uneasy smile. "And its fine thanks. What about your Spartan friend?"

57 was about to answer until Captain White cut in.

"That is none of your concern Sergeant Major. You and Mr. Harper should concern yourself with the parameters of this mission. We will discuss this in the Com Room" White extended his hand to the marines and the Spartans into a room located behind the main bridge.

Sharpe would have been offended had he not been given the rejection of information several times before. He noticed that the Spartan had not moved yet. There was an awkward feeling between the two, waiting for one another to move. Finally Sharpe made the move into the room and 57 followed in behind him.


End file.
